


Oops I Did It Again!

by HiddenEye



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adam (Voltron) Lives, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Jealous Shiro (Voltron), Jealousy, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Season/Series 07, Shower Sex, Top Keith (Voltron), Unresolved Sexual Tension, authority kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-03 20:39:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15826518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: “I don’t know what’s worse,” Shiro turned to him, holding back the need to bare his teeth. “That you actually said that or how my ex-boyfriend is telling me to pursue a relationship with the man who’s leading Voltron.”





	1. Before

“People will start to notice you like this.”

Maybe, having them fill up one of the officers lounge had been a bad idea after all. There wasn’t space enough for Shiro to stare off in peace before someone was going to realise he went offline.

Offline. Shiro was beginning to think his body was only a post for his mangled soul before he would transfer himself to somewhere else. Preferably back in the Black Lion.

“When there are more interesting things to focus on?” Shiro took a sip from the glass he had been holding on for the last ten minutes, having the foreign taste of store bought iced tea bursting around his taste buds for the first time in years. He let his eyes land onto the yellow box wedged in between the microwave and a plate of sugar coated doughnuts, and hummed shortly when Adam joined his pity wall beside the fridge. “I doubt it.”

“After Atlas? You’ll be in the headlines for months,” Adam was holding a can of beer in the middle of the afternoon, and Shiro stared after it mournfully. “But, comparing it to a more personal way, I guess your Paladins are more interested in catching up with others.”

“Years of being stuck in space with the same company does that to you. And they’re not my Paladins,” Shiro looked into his glass, trying to trick his brain into thinking the rustic colour of his tea had the same characteristics as Adam’s beer. He twirled his glass in circles, and silently declared his drink as drunk-able as he watched ice float in their mindless carousel. “They’re Keith’s.”

As it should be, he thought. Shiro let his gaze wander to the man sitting by the end of the sofa. He knew that choosing Keith as a substitute was one of those decisions he didn’t need to think into much. When Shiro first made up his mind, it was during those days when they were still learning with the lions, and choosing a leader didn’t need any prompting on his part after seeing the bond Keith forged momentarily with the Black Lion. Some work were needed to polish his rough edges, but Shiro knew there was no other person he would have as his successor other than Keith.

And Keith, who was able to tighten his grip on the role after several years, attracted attention. Seeing the same cadet who had the unfortunate luck in being branded with ‘Juvi Kid’ among other cadets now stood tall among his peers was something to be behold, Shiro supposed. They flocked around Keith with a constant impressed air as he evenly explained his adventures, retelling them in his usual curt way. It was also having the MFE occupying the whole sofa as they spread out around him, relaxed and in their orange uniforms.

Shiro was proud of him, proud of what he had accomplished and it was reasonable for everyone to be interested on what happened _out there_. But, there was no helping how he had to watch Rizavi turned her torso to his direction as she laughed at Keith’s dry remark, the same way Griffin had a smirk tacked on the whole time his eyes were on Keith.

It was also noticing how Griffin kept glancing at his scar too, curious perhaps, before dragging that same gaze to the lower part of his face before snapping it up to acknowledge one part of Keith’s story.

The wall he leaned on rooted Shiro there, nursing his cold tea while something twinged violently at the centre of his chest, all while not able to tear his eyes away from Keith and the company he pulled.

 _Leader of Voltron_ , Shiro had to remind himself. _Cool ex-classmate who got thrown out of Garrison with a bang. Relate your awe for Keith with them._

“I think ownership has nothing to do with how you’re practically sulking over him,” Adam said, peering at him through the brim of his glasses. Shiro knew that look, seen it too many times during the worse parts of their circumstances with his health being the coal to their fire. It didn’t make Shiro like it more than the time he resigned himself to it. “If it makes you any better, talking usually helps.”

“Usually,” Shiro parroted, and Adam merely arched his eyebrows. With how knowing he looked, Shiro let out a light snort before taking a sip. “I’m not biting that bullet.”

“Consider your pining as a life lesson,” Adam continued lightly, deliberately brushing away his notion with a cross of his arms pressed against his chest, and watched how the MFE pilots were lightheartedly making fun of Keith’s long hair. “It’s an opportunity, and you’re wasting it by doing nothing.”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Shiro turned to him, holding back the need to bare his teeth. “That you actually said that or how my ex-boyfriend is telling me to pursue a relationship with the man who’s leading Voltron.”

“You’re leaving out the fact we almost got engaged?” Adam took a gulp of his beer, and Shiro ignored him in favour of his cup. “And how both of us parted on bad terms and yet we’re still talking as if our breakup didn’t suck ass?”

Then, Adam was facing him again, wearing the same expression after he found out Shiro was consuming an unhealthy amount of Mac ‘n’ Cheese for three days straight when Adam was away with a whole group of cadets. Back then, Shiro merely shrugged and landed a kiss to his cheek in a form of apology. Now, he stared back, his new arm holding onto the cup, all while not backing down from Adam’s insistence.

Shiro had no means of wanting to be reminded of what they had. That was the past and both of them knew it.

With that on top of his capture and torture on a Galran ship, as well as dying, he didn’t know why he was saddled with endless misfortunes. Shiro just wanted to fly to space because that had been his dream since he was a kid. Meeting aliens was cool for a six-year-old but actually seeing and interacting with them at twenty-four?

He lost a whole arm to them. If anyone were to recommend him alien movies, he was going to decline them on the spot.

“Think of it this way,” Adam began, his voice offering an unspoken truce with how soothing he made it be. “You love him. And there’s nothing you want but to be with him, only, he’s too clueless to see it.”

“What do you know about my love for him?” Shiro asked, just on a cusp of a demand as his eyes swept around for eavesdroppers. No one was giving them any mind, and he didn’t know whether or not they were doing it out of respect or because they were uneasy of Shiro and Adam being seen together again after everything that happened.

Adam smiled then, but it didn’t reach where it used to be as he offered Shiro his beer, and he couldn’t help but stare at it. It was almost a peace treaty, from how the emerald greens of the surface gleamed under the LED lights, the beverage in it sloshing quietly under his movements. “Even though it’s been seven years, you think I wouldn’t recognise the same look you’re giving him when you once used it on me before? Only this time,” Adam pointedly glanced at where they were seated. “There are people in the way.”

Shiro bit the inside of his cheek, and then he was swapping his glass of tea with Adam’s beer, to which he tilted his head to vacuum it all up in one large inhale. Adam was still looking at Keith with something akin to wonder. “Gotta admit, some of us thought he was as dead as you were.”

That made Shiro choke on his drink, trying to hide his coughs in his fist as he turned away from the crowd while Adam eyed him in concern. A bubble of laughter escaped past his lips. If there was one thing he could bear —sometimes, under certain situations— it was how Adam unknowingly said things that sometimes hit a little too close to home. “Almost,” Shiro wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “But, we’re okay.”

“I heard about your little adventure on the bridge between the living and the hereafter,” Adam commented, peering into the iced tea with a carefully blank expression. “Seems like even death can’t pull you two apart.”

By then, the doors slid open for Lance and Hunk, who made a beeline to where Keith was and immediately greeted the group enthusiastically. Hunk looped an arm around Keith’s neck to ruffle his hair while Lance already slipped himself between Griffin and Keith, talking animatedly about what Shiro assumed was progress from Allura and Pidge on the robobeast they fought weeks earlier, while Keith chuckled and pushed back at Hunk’s affectionate touch.

Shiro felt himself bringing the can down from his lips, it wasn’t until he felt his shoulders relaxed as well that he realised Adam was looking at him in mild amusement. “I see.”

Shiro turned his back to him as he threw the can into the bin by his feet. “We’re not discussing this anymore.”

“Sure, Captain,”  Adam gave him a small salute before he made his way to the sink. “But, using the Paladins as your own personal cockblocker is low, subconsciously or not.”

Shiro only watched how Adam tilted the glass and let a stream of tea went down the drain.

 

* * *

 

Shiro shouldn’t feel this ugly.

Considering the heights it took Keith to bring him back from the dead, Shiro shouldn’t feel as if the man was abandoning him when it was always, _always,_ the other way around.

This, with how he sat on one of the benches with a towel dragged down the side of his face, was ridiculous.

Training had been Keith’s idea, of course. Together, he said, and he ran the idea of installing a simulation in the training room with Iverson and Coran a few days back that they agreed instantly. It would be something new, they had said with a nod. Cadets, officers, and everyone alike would have a chance in testing out the variations left to offer, they added. It took Shiro, Keith, Coran, Allura, Romelle, Krolia, Matt, and Nyma to coin in some of their experiences with the universe in order to make it life-like. It was similar to how Krolia tested them in the lions on their journeys, only it composed of a solo, group mission or somewhere in between, with a lot of fighting and running from and after a bunch of holograms.

Shiro had the honours of testing out the simulation in a solo mission and was resting in the room looking over the large room below, where Keith and Acxa were having a feel of a two-man mission of their own.

The room moved with them; they had to think they were running before their thoughts were transmitted into the headpiece they wore. They were similar to the ones back on the castleship, proud accessories designed by the Altean Princess herself while the Holts had volunteered to start working on them rather enthusiastically.

Right then, Keith fought with a couple of holographic sentries, slashing the Black Bayard through the middle of their bodies while he and Acxa were pressed back to back.

“This is definitely better than your regular training regime back on the castle,” Pidge grinned, fingers flying over the keyboard as she let more sentries crawl in between the mess of bushes and weeds, shooting both of them on sight. “It has science and exertion rolled into one. I’d be here most of the time, if I was honest.”

“Yeah, but those two are taking things a little too seriously, don’t you think?” Hunk said, watching a ten foot sentry materialised behind a tree before it stepped around the trunk with a mace in its hand. It was big, ugly, and highlighted with familiar purple lights at every fold of their limbs. “They look scary.”

The catch of having these holograms were only one: they could hit you as if they were real as much as you could hit them.

So when the robot slammed its mace on the same spot both Keith and Acxa once stood but managed to scrambled away, Shiro noticed how the whole room winced from the echo of its hit.

“ _That_ thing’s scary,” Lance rubbed his hand over his bicep. “Where did you guys even found that?”

“Nyma, I think,” Pidge replied, adjusting her glasses as she peered at the screen near her. “She and Rolo got in a tight spot with that thing earlier in their days as a team, and barely managed to make it out alive without it smashing their skulls in.” Then, she shrugged. “I still think it’s kinda cool.”

“You’re not down there,” he pointed out. “Of course you’d say fighting a big robot is cool.”

“Don’t worry,” Shiro let his elbows dig into his lap as he leaned forward, following the curve of Keith’s spine when he ducked down from an upcoming swing of the weapon. “Everyone would get a turn.”

He only heard the faint groan coming from them when suddenly, Acxa reached out and grasped onto Keith’s forearm like he did to hers, and he swung around to gain momentum before throwing her at the robot with her dagger out ready, the point of her teeth bared into a snarl.

She brought her dagger down the length of their enemy, metal against blade screeching loudly as if it was a real sentry they brought in, where it sizzled and short circuited from the damage before the hologram dissipated with a _pop_ just as she landed to her feet.

Breathing heavily, she blinked to where the robot had disappeared, before she slowly lifted her head to where Keith let the corner of his lips tilt up slightly at their success.

Acxa, noticing the pleased reaction he wore, merely smiled back as she sheathed her dagger back into its case.

There was almost a little roll to her hips when she turned to face Keith; subtle, but an eye who had been training on their movements for the whole time they were fighting would see how she was deliberate in what she did. “That was a good move,” she praised from the speakers, propping a hand against her hip as the smile remained. “I didn’t expect myself to be thrown like that, but it did the job.”

Shiro pushed his tongue against the row of his clenched teeth; he could hear the waves of Adam’s laughter echoing in his ears. There would be a chance he was toasting to his own success before he gave Shiro a rhetorical wink.

Keith didn’t even see any of this as he shrugged, pushing back his sweaty hair from his forehead. “Yeah, I guess we’re a good team.”

She let out a chuckle, short but velvet, but it was almost as if the sound of someone who knew what they were doing. “We are.”

“Is she _flirting_ with him?” Pidge loudly whispered to Hunk and Lance, who were both leaning against the back of her chair as they stared down at their leader in disbelief.

“And he doesn’t even notice,” Lance said, gesturing towards their clueless friend with a jerk of an exasperated hand. “Am I supposed to be surprised?”

“I don’t know, dude,” Hunk squinted at the way Acxa took a few steps nearer towards Keith, where both of them continued their reviews on their mission. “Keith _does_ look interested in talking to her, at least?”

With blood roaring in his ears, Shiro stood up, swinging his face towel onto his shoulder with a hard _slap_ as he took a few steps towards near where Pidge sat, Lance and Hunk scrambling back to give him way. Shiro leaned forward as he pressed onto a button, and brought his face nearer to the mic. “Keith,” he said simply, both of them snapping their head up. “Acxa. Excellent performance. But, if you will, our next group is already waiting for their turn.”

“No, we’re not,” Lance muttered somewhere behind him, but Shiro was already letting go of the button and stepping away from the control panel.

“You okay?” Hunk questioned as Shiro walked by, and made his way directly to where the MFE was already waiting at the back of the room, who straightened their backs at the sight of him before giving him a quick salute to their temple.

“Veronica,” Shiro said instead, feeling Hunk blink at the back of his head. He didn’t deserve it, but Shiro didn’t feel like confirming anything he knew. “You’ll be leading the MFE and the Paladins. I’ve already asked Matt to key in your mission. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to oversee it and will be taking my leave now.”

“Sir,” Veronica nodded, and he quickly walked by.

“Is he okay?” Rizavi asked at the corner of her mouth, but Shiro couldn’t be bothered to listen in as he made his way out of the room and into the hallway, where the journey to the lift didn’t take no more than a few seconds. It was then the doors were already sliding open before he even reached the end of the hallway, and out came Keith and Acxa, standing shoulder to shoulder as they continued to mutter between themselves with their heads ducked near.

The sight shouldn’t make his veins rush with irritation so much, shouldn’t make Shiro slowly thin his lips as he mentally got rid of thoughts he shouldn’t even be considering. He was being childish, the whole situation he jumped in without so much of a restraint on his violent needs was unreasonable.

However, that didn’t stop him from tilting his head the slightest bit when they noticed him coming at their way, and Shiro was almost guilty at how softened Keith’s eyes were when they took him in. 

But then, Acxa tried to smile at Shiro as well, a gesture of friendliness, of kinship for the greater good maybe, and the fire prickling underneath his skin flared across the slope of his shoulders and up his nape.

“Shiro,” Keith started, as if wanting to tell him something with a smile already peeking through.

“Sir.” Shiro replied shortly, swiftly walking pass them as he stepped inside the lift and pressed onto the button of the floor heading towards his room, hearing the soft _ding_ above his head slowly transitioning into the lowered volume of music before the doors started to close again.

Just when they were about to slide shut, Shiro lifted his head just in time to see the shock etched onto Keith’s face as he stared at Shiro, mouth parted wordlessly before he was cut off from view.

 

* * *

 

It was six forty-five in the morning when Shiro tried to pump out his jitters through the treadmill in the gym they left untouched from renovation, just beside the simulation.

He was alone, accompanied with the sound of the machine underneath him humming quietly along with his laboured breaths, training shoes thumping softly against the rubber of the running belt. Sweat was making his shirt stick to his body, his skin shining under the glaring lights, his forelock swaying with every movement until drops of moisture splattered against his eyes and cheek.

He had been moving on the same spot for an hour, non-stop, save for the times he changed the running programmes that made him run faster or when he slowed himself down into a jog. He had been breathing slowly in and out through his mouth for the whole time he was on the treadmill, trying to even out his heartbeat and prolong his running.

The restlessness made it easier for him sustain himself throughout his work out, never having a break until he was sure everything that made him want to peel off his skin was gone from his system. Two days of pent up energy was starting to eat him alive, and he needed an outlet before he started snapping at people who didn’t deserve this kind of behaviour. He wasn’t going to make himself fall so low if he could help it.

Lifting his head, he saw the long finger of the clock just touching the edge of the bolded eleven.

Five more minutes.

He sighed, looked forward, and let his mind wander around while he stared blankly out of the windows and its bluish skies.

Re-evaluating himself was, if ever, not his best ways of therapy.

Takashi Shirogane. Twenty-six years old, technically twenty-nine according to his ID on Earth. White hair, grey eyes. Amputee. Pilot of Mission Kerberos. Former Black Paladin of Voltron. Captain of Atlas.

Astronaut. Champion. Leader. Clone. Traitor.

He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

There was a hiss of the door sliding open behind him just as the clock striked seven, and Shiro pressed onto a button that allowed him to slow himself down, ambling through the last rounds on the belt before he stopped moving entirely. He reached for the small towel he hung over one of the handles and wiped his face with it.

There was this heavy silence hanging in the air that Shiro silently took note of, and pulled the towel away to see Keith standing near the doorway, holding onto a water bottle in one hand with a towel of his own in the other. His eyes drilled on Shiro alone, dressed in a tank top and a pair of sweats with its drawstrings pulled and tied.

Shiro tried not to think how his spine tingled as the look pierced through him. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Keith stepped inside, letting the doors shut close as he made his way to the treadmill beside him, dropping his bottle into the required cup holder and hung the towel like Shiro did. Keith pulled the hair tie from his wrist, and gathered the hair off his nape. “I’m not sure whether or not I should be surprised you’re here alone.”

Because sometimes, a couple or so officers would occupy the equipments provided if they didn’t have a class to teach. Today, apparently, had been empty when Shiro first stepped in just a quarter before six. The television hanging on the wall wasn’t even switched on yet, with the water dispenser sitting quietly at the corner while the skies were still shrouded with darkness.

By then, Shiro let his gaze sweep over the area, walked over to the treadmill, and ignored the too empty room with its buzzing white noises and lemon flavoured air freshener.

Understandably, it was early, people would come in half an hour later.

Shiro thought he would be alone for the whole time the first time he glanced up in forty minutes since he started the treadmill.

“Off day, probably,” he said, watching how Keith went over to the registration counter and reached over to take a remote.

“And you decided to work out in total silence?” Keith pressed onto the red button, and the small screen above their heads flickered on to a woman stirring into the bowl with a wooden spoon, smiling widely at the camera as she chattered about the weather.

Keith threw the remote back into its designated basket. “It clears my head,” Shiro held onto his look, unrelenting, as Keith walked back to where he stood. “Anyway, there usually aren’t good channels to watch in the crack ass of dawn.”

“They usually play the classics at this time,” Keith began tapping on his usual running programs, fingers flitting over the surface while his eyes remained on the white lit screen. “Indiana Jones, Captain America, Sleepless in Seattle, Titanic.”

“You kept track on all of them?” Shiro asked, grabbing onto his bottle before popping the cover up.

Keith laughed shortly. “Yeah, well, the hospital didn’t give me that much to do, and the nurses wouldn’t appreciate it if I was up and running too soon,” he shrugged then, causing a strand of hair to fall and curl near his cheek. “Movies are the best way to pass time until you fall asleep. The cycle goes on if you don’t have any guests.”

The purple of his pupils seemed to sear right through the very centre of his being when Keith looked up then; searching, but tentative as he let them pick through what Shiro allowed him to see, concealing the heavy thud of his heart underneath layers upon layers of his own protection. Keith had his mouth pinched slightly at one corner, but his brows didn’t furrow like they usually do whenever he was analysing a plan.

Shiro wouldn’t be surprised if Keith caught onto his behaviour, his _feelings_ to be exact — that didn’t stop Shiro from sweeping every one of them under the rug, the same way if he did caught red-handed, then the only thing he could do was cause a diversion.

To talk about anywhere, anything, but about himself.

The thought of Keith having an inkling of what ran through Shiro’s mind every time someone else touched him, looked at Keith a little too longer with a smile that shone bright was enough to make Shiro shut down. It wasn’t ideal, cutting off communication never was, but _still_.

By then, Shiro only made sure his posture remained at eased to not raise any enquiry, and gazed back without a word.

“Did I do something wrong?” Keith asked softly, but the clear shine of his eyes still remained on Shiro without having ideas of backing down. “You kinda avoided me for a couple of days, and I thought I insulted you or something.”

Shiro closed his bottle without drinking, realising too late, that he should have taken a sip when his throat suddenly felt dry. “No,” he replied, thankful there wasn’t a rasp in his voice. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Really,” the question fell flat on Keith’s tongue. “Then, Captain, why were you running away from me back at the elevator?”

Shiro felt himself straightening his back, his title ringing in his ears. “I didn’t,” Shiro said smoothly, and Keith let his eyes flit towards his shoulders, clearly noticing his reaction. “I was in a hurry to get somewhere, I didn’t have enough time to talk.”

“You sounded like you were pissed off,” Keith remarked, bringing his gaze to Shiro’s face again, one eyebrow raised up slightly. “At me. And whatever I did to make you like that.”

“I wasn’t pissed off.” Shiro lied.

Keith looked as if he wanted to scoff. “Calling me ‘sir’ with that tone? You were.”

Shiro crossed his arms. “Maybe you’re imagining things.”

Eyes flashing in indignation, Keith ended up mirroring his posture. “ _I’m_ imagining things?”

Shiro slowly tightened his jaw, his refusal to say anything burned strongly in his throat, a ball of mess that clung tightly onto the tissues of his airway. Keith seemed to notice this, and sighed through his nose as he dropped his arms limply to his sides. The same guilt from before stabbed into Shiro’s sternum without mercy.

“I just want to fix whatever it was I did,” Keith began, his voice a careful monotone, and it set off at least twenty alarms from every corner. “But, if you don’t want to, I guess that’s fine.” He shrugged. For some reason, Shiro felt like he was slapped in the face. “I’ll leave you alone about it.”

Keith turned forward to face the direction of the belt, leaving Shiro blink back at him in mild surprise. Without another word, Keith pressed into the button and began jogging in place, an audience’s laughter coming through the television’s speakers; whatever they were laughing about all those decades ago didn’t have anything to do with their current timeline, detached from anything terrestrial, and it settled around both of them like a fog.

Shiro bit into his bottom lip, mind a disarray at the blatant disregard.

Whatever Shiro put up between them worked, only it wasn’t what he thought it might work out, and it made him feel awfully shitty.

He held onto his belongings and began to leave, running his fingers through his hair as a soft puff of breath escaped through his mouth.

“We have a meeting between Voltron, Atlas, and the freedom fighters in the afternoon,” Keith called out. “Olia, Matt, and Nyma will be seeing us.”

Keith was still facing the stretch of windows in front of him when Shiro glanced at his way, his small ponytail bouncing with every step he took. Shiro let his gaze linger on the back of his neck, and hummed. “Thanks. I’ll see you later,” he paused, mind alight and reeling. “Sir.”

He turned around and stepped out of the room. The burn of Keith’s glare was apparent at the back of his skull as Shiro walked away.

 

* * *

 

Shiro distantly listened to Sam murmuring to Iverson, tapping his fingers against his lap at the memory of the past —which, ironically, happened in the same building— minus all the disastrous events that were unearthed beneath their noses years later.

He saw Keith, rounder in face and snotty in the nose, glaring at him from the edge of his blanket while Shiro made a witty comment, somewhere along those lines of finally inhaling the chill of the night like cigarettes until it frosted his lungs, before he was whacked with the only pillow Garrison gave their students to sleep on. Shiro had to lift a container of chicken soup above his head, and cackled at Keith’s face when those red brim eyes hid from view with a loud groan as Shiro gave him smack for going out past curfew again.

“Someone almost caught you again,” Shiro had added lightly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But, I managed to tell them you were a friend from town and you were visiting me because you were gonna give me this box of non-existent chocolate brownies I like so much. They were leftovers from the bakery, which is where you worked, by the way.”

“My fucking hero.” Keith spat, words muffled by the blanket and his blocked nose.

Spiteful little fire, that was his Keith was.

His fingers stopped their movement, eyebrows twitching up as the last of that thought drifted to the back of his mind, tucking itself into one of the many pockets he embedded for future references. Shiro was going to look through them later, or they were going to overflow and he would lose some of them or deliberately forget about them all together.

Sometimes, he wished crumpling his own memories and throwing them down the endless bin of a black hole was an option he could keep.

There was a soft hiss, and Keith stepped in with the other Paladins behind his back, all dressed in Garrison’s uniforms as they took their seats.

Keith, pressed in olive green with the shine of his new badges glinting on his chest, sat beside Shiro without another word.

“Sir,” he greeted softly, just enough for only both of them to hear.

Keith merely gave him a nod, seemingly unaffected as he straightened the front of his uniform.

Shiro wanted to laugh at his stubbornness.

“Friends,” Iverson greeted as he stood up. “Shall we?”

Keith gave an incline of his head, and immediately, all of them focused on Iverson.

The work done by the people and their own determination were flowing smoothly. Slowly, yes, but they were working so well together that everything that crumbled were built again by their own hands. Whatever supplies they managed to salvage was distributed equally among all while they grew new food; they communicated with farms outside town, the groceries reopened and the factories running. The civilians were healing, and the underground fighters were even training them ways to defend themselves from another possible attack.

“The Galaxy Garrison,” Iverson added. “Is now in a need of desperate amendment. We have done and hid too many errors for its old lifetime to not do anything, even if they were old mistakes. Commander Holt and I were discussing about the likeness of winning the civilians’ favour after the last time everything was almost exposed, for the greater good where they would trust us enough without thinking we have any other ulterior motive.”

“I’m sorry, but,” Pidge began. “after _what_ was almost exposed?”

He levelled his eye towards Sam, amusement peeking through the tilt of his smile. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell your daughter about this.”

“Son too,” Matt said, back straightening as he looked at his father curiously. “What happened while we were gone?”

“Your mother infiltrated the Garrisons’ systems to demand for answers and found out that our case was held back from the public eye,” Sam said in far too cheery tone that had Shiro fight down a grin. “She saw everything wasn’t pilot error, and that the cameras from our ship caught the last moments before it was destroyed, that we were stolen first in opposed to getting killed from a severe impact. She threatened to take down the Garrison with lawyers, media exposure, and suing for withholding information. She got support from the McClains and the Garretts later.”

“It had been going on for years until Sam came crashing down like a God sent angel,” Iverson said wryly, and all members of the table didn’t even hide their chuckles. “We had to assure them we were actually trying to find all of you, and of course, Colleen Holt came over to keep an eye on us to make sure that we do.”

“Hell yeah,” Pidge snickered, tapping Matt’s offered fist with her own.

“What are you asking from us for this amendment?” Olia inquired from her place.

“Your attendance in our ceremony.” Iverson replied, and that caught their interest.

“A ceremony?” Hunk asked dubiously. “How’s that going to help?”

“By talking,” Shiro said, meeting their eyes while feeling Keith’s steady gaze on the side of his head. “High morale is good for us. Some music and dancing might help in relieving some weight. It might sound mundane, but we need it more than we realise.”

“And distribution of supplies for the civilians. As of now, our men had been focusing on the insides of our new organisation, tightening what knot that was left opened before Atlas took over. Now that everything is stable on our part, we’ll be able to give our full attention in rebuilding the city and give the people everything they need to survive this war. Food, clothes, shelter, protection; they’ll have to cooperate with us too. It’ll be easier, and it’ll be faster.”

“We’ll be giving them our strength, physically and mentally,” he concluded. “We’ll be giving them hope.”

There was a hush settling over them as they absorbed the information in, and Shiro let his gaze sweep around the table before finally settling onto Keith, who wore a smile on his face that looked too proud for Shiro to accept, far too tender. It made him smile back though, and he let his head dip down briefly in embarrassment before he focused on the company around him again.

“And when is this ceremony?” Allura asked, once the moment had passed.

They talked for another hour about its details, about teams that would be involved in transporting those supplies to other cities. Each leader of the group would only stay for a week at most to make sure everything was going onwards without any hiccups before they were to return to the Garrison; those cities will be looked after by a commander selected by Shiro himself, and the people should be safe and encouraged to ask for any help from them.

Shiro stood up and gave a quick nod at Iverson and Sam’s way, before he stepped out of the room.

It wasn’t even ten seconds later the door behind him opened up again once he was at the other end of the hallway.

Shiro walked, those faint footsteps firm against the floor as they followed him from behind, and he kept his alarm under control when it sounded like the person was marching towards him in increasing speed.

A hand gripped his shoulder and turned him around. Shiro was able to see a flash of purple before the same hand slid to his chest, pushing him backwards until the hiss of another door opening up for them and darkness swallowed them whole.

There was a click of a switch the same moment he was being turned around again, back colliding against the surface of the door as Keith looked at him with his eyes ablaze.

Shiro bit the tip of his tongue, threading through his words. “Hi.”

“You just couldn’t stop, can you?” Keith only growled back.

“You’ve pushed me into a storeroom,” Shiro pointed out, noticing the bucket near his foot with mops and a vacuum cleaner clustering at the other corner of the small room. “Of all places.”

Keith looked like he wanted to strangle him. “Shiro.”

Shiro merely stared back. “Keith.”

Keith inhaled sharply through his nose, those fingers near Shiro’s shoulder curling tightly on his uniform. “Jesus fucking Christ—“

“If it’s any help to you,” Shiro held up his hands. “I used to poke at you all the time.”

“How’s that any help? And this isn’t your normal poking,” Keith hissed, pressing nearer until his front brushed against Shiro. “You’ve been like this since two days ago, Shiro, and when I asked what’s wrong, you deny it ever happening in the first place but still did it again earlier in the meeting.”

“Was it offensive?”

That seemed to snap Keith out of his storm, leaving him gaping for a second too long before he was clamping his mouth shut. “What?”

“I’m asking if whatever I did was offensive,” Shiro repeated evenly. “If it was, I’m sorry. All I ever did was called you ‘sir’.”

“In a condescending way,” Keith shot back. “Like I just took a shit on your dinner but you’re still trying to be nice to me despite me being an asshole.”

Shiro did laugh this time. “Charming.”

“And you’re the one who I should be calling ‘sir’,” Keith continued, but his voice was lowered now, as if he was dousing his raising temper with gallons of water, and in the end, it was devoid of the fire that brought them in the cramped room in the first place. “Is that what you want, _sir?_ Or do you want me to call you by your full title?”

“You’re my friend, Keith,” Shiro tilted his head to the side, heartbeat thundering underneath his chest when Keith lowered his lashes, causing shadows to rest across the apple of his cheeks. “You can call me whatever you want.”

“Is it the same if I tell you how _you_ can tell me whatever you want if there’s something bothering you?” Keith muttered.

Shiro stopped, hands slowly lowering down with the same moment the energy in him plummeted. Keith had already unfurled his fingers from his shirt, his palm now a warm furnace resting just above Shiro’s heart as he looked at anywhere but at the concerned look Keith doned — he was ashamed that it made Keith haul Shiro somewhere where they could be alone, and it made Shiro embarrassed of his own behaviour in making it more complicated when he could have just been honest.

But, what was he to say? _Hey Keith, could you stop talking to those people like that, please?_

Shiro would be a laughing stock for months and years to come.

Keith, however, was still looking at him expectantly.

Shiro beat down the looming blanket of apprehension as he cleared his throat, hands now pressing lightly against the surface of the door behind him for any sort of footing. “It’s because of Griffin.”

Keith blinked. “Griffin? James Griffin?” Then, his expression clouded over. “What did he do?”

Shiro knew inevitable death was coming soon, and it was upon himself. Again. “And Acxa.”

This time, Keith let his eyebrows arch up high his forehead. “Acxa? What did she do?”

“Nothing to me,” _Assault on target._  “But, to you.” _Initiated contact._

“They didn’t do anything to me,” Keith said, the wheels in his head turning as he recalled every interaction he had with them. “We mostly talked and trained together, and—“

He stopped, and the way realisation sank in was as heavily as the way doom dropped to the bottom of Shiro’s stomach. He intently observed the lights of the storeroom, head resting against the door while his fists pressed themselves on the slope of his back.

“Oh.”

Shiro wanted to run, but the hand on his shoulder was suddenly an anchor to his body. He couldn’t say anything, couldn’t even meet his eyes.

“Shiro.”

He snapped his head down to look at where Keith took a step nearer towards him until they were chest to chest, and Shiro was sure the man before him was able to feel the panicked beat of his heart through their flesh and clothes. Something was gleaming in those eyes, and it made Shiro hold onto his breath.

“Are you jealous?” Keith murmured, and he was dangerous in the tone of his voice, the glee in his look. Now that he extracted what he needed from Shiro, he was more than delighted to use it for himself.

“I,” Shiro stammered, heat shooting up his face before it flared across his cheeks, the tip of his ears alight like two hot bright stars. “I— That’s not—“

“You’re jealous and you don’t know what to do about it,” Keith said simply, and that made Shiro shut his mouth with a click. “Are you really that afraid of losing me?”

By this time, the tip of his nose was already brushing against Shiro’s, warm breath fanning against his lips with those words ringing in the shell of his ears.

There was one point in time when they tried talking about that fight. There was point when Shiro sat down and looked at Keith while those three words still rolled its mindless loop in his head. It was repeated over, and over, until Shiro apologised for almost killing his best friend, for not being able to free himself from the bind of Haggar’s control. Keith accepted it and yet, he kept reassuring him it wasn’t his fault. He had done nothing wrong, Keith kept saying, and Shiro was only allowed to nod because he didn’t want Keith to make it sound like _he_ was apologising for making Shiro feel bad.

Then, Keith had asked if he remembered anything else.

When Shiro felt the sharp strike of fear underneath his sternum, he slowly shook his head, even if Keith dropped his own with a small “Okay.” and ended the conversation there.

Now. Now, however, was when Shiro was left staring at how nebulas worked in his eyes, they were turning and churning their way through the universe for him. They were bright, they were beautiful, and Keith affirmed they were only for him. A lovely pair of twilight eyes, to which they belonged to a lovely face with a lovely mouth.

Shiro traced a finger onto that plush bottom lip, unable to break away when Keith held onto his look, before he let out a soft, “Yeah.”

By then, Shiro leaned forward to press his mouth to Keith’s, hand dropping to grip onto his forearm as he tasted those lips against him with vigour the moment contact was made. It was exploring the sweet remaining taste of peaches he ate as a snack, feeling the shuddering release of his breath through the push of their chest before Keith angled his head and leaned into it more, slipping his tongue past his lips with a hungry nudge.

It was Keith slipping his knee between his legs and holding onto the side of his face, thumb pressing into his pulse point that had Shiro humming deeply in his throat when Keith tilted his head to his liking.

It was Keith; lovely, lovely Keith with his wandering hands slipping down the length of his body and using his knee to rub against his crotch, teasing and taking and letting those fingers hook onto his belt as he gave Shiro a nip of a kiss that had him breathless for more.

The belt clicked and tinkled under those hands as Keith loosened it, kissing Shiro with all his need as Keith licked the roof of his mouth, distracting Shiro with his pretty little tongue before he was letting out a sharp gust of breath the moment fingers wrapped around the base of his dick.

It was feeling his thumb swipe up and move over the head, passing through the slit before his fingers slid down again and drew up in languid strokes that made his hips roll along. Keith did it again, and again, finding a rhythm until Shiro was leaning against the door with his face tilted towards the ceiling.

“Keith,” he moaned, feeling a pair of lips pressed themselves harshly underneath his jaw as Keith jerked him off. Shiro saw the shelves of soap and floor shine behind him and prevented himself from laughing out loud; if anyone found them like this, as if they were a couple of horny teenagers who decided to go off in a small storeroom, then they were done for.

He groaned when Keith twisted his wrist, head falling back with a dull thud that had Keith pressing another vicious kiss to his mouth.

“They’ll hear you,” he warned, before he was biting into his lip again that had Shiro moaning softly.

“Think they’ll be surprised if they find us like this?” He strained out, watching how Keith was already dropping to his knees and shoving down his pants and underwear. He let out a breathless chuckle when Keith inspected his hard dick with interest, the cool air of the room hitting him to his balls.

“You, getting sucked off by me?” Keith dragged his hand up the inner part of his thigh, the contrast between the chill temperature of the room and the almost heaty warmth of his palm made Shiro sucked in a stuttering breath, leg jerky against his touch. “They probably made a bet.”

Shiro slumped against the door when Keith kissed the head, almost sweetly if he had to admit to himself, fingers scratching lightly down the trail of fine hair before they splayed against his hip. “God, yeah.”

Keith let out a burst of laughter, pressing another kiss to his dick. “Well, yeah, they’re assholes to us. What do you expect?”

“Only you’d say that—“

Shiro choked off the last of his sentence when Keith took him in one go, slipping his dick into his mouth until his nose was pressing into his abdomen. With a wheeze of a breath, Shiro dug his nails into his hands as Keith let his tongue pressed against the underside of his dick to drag it out, head bobbing while his fingers circled around the base for purchase.

If Shiro admitted to himself, if he really wanted to look further down into the part of his mind where he sworn to never touch again, he would see his need to be pressed down to bed again, a cock buried deep inside him as he begged for more. It was wanting to have another body on top of him, to have kisses pressed onto the back of his neck again as they fucked him until the bed shook, his pleads louder than before. Shiro knew using his own hand to loosen himself wasn’t enough, it never was wholly enough — he needed warmth, he needed to be held down and fucked over so badly he was crying.

It was something he kept to himself after he forgot about his past relationship, using his bedroom and the showers as his own outlet while Keith had a strand of hair curled against his neck a few rooms away.

Keith dug his fingers into the flesh of his leg until Shiro had to widen his stance, where Keith took his head into his mouth and sucked Shiro until he was rocking into the back of his throat with a groan.

But Keith held him still, having admirable gag reflex as his other hand gripped onto his left cheek while a finger slid in between to pass over his hole, swirling his digit around the way it clenched from his warm touch.

Shiro gasped, feeling pressure shoot up to his head until his hips were stuttering under Keith’s grip, where Shiro was panting and scrambling against the iron hold made out of pure will. “Keith, please, I’m almost—“

Keith gave another stroke with his fingers that made Shiro’s hips jerk forward, releasing Shiro with a _pop_. His lips were filthy with his precome and his own spit, glistened and overused as Keith let his tongue swipe off the fluids. “Not yet.”

Shiro huffed out when Keith gently squeezed the head, and Shiro was already holding onto his last thread of control while Keith had his gaze drilled into him. “What— Keith, I need—“

“No,” Keith gripped just below his head, and Shiro couldn’t help the whine from escaping as he slumped back again, the tight pull underneath his skin threatening to break him. “Later.”

“Later,” Shiro echoed in disbelief, breathing heavily as he felt Keith drew himself up to kiss Shiro again, allowing him to taste himself and how needy he was being when his hand trailed down to the hand that held his dick, wrapping his own fingers over Keith’s. “Keith, come on, please—“

“I‘ll be in Florida for a week, yeah?” Keith breathed against his mouth, and Shiro immediately knew what he meant and dropped his forehead onto Keith’s with a groan, shaking his head desperately.

“No, no. Keith,” Keith pressed his thumb onto the thick vein of his dick, and Shiro let out a harsh exhale as he snapped his head to the side of his face and blindly mouthed the sharp edge of his jaw. “Don’t make me wait so long, I can’t wait that long—“

“Do you want me to repeat that mantra?” Keith asked cheekily, but Shiro bared his teeth into a silent snarl of frustration before he shook his head again.

“ _No_.”

Keith landed a kiss onto his temple. “If you come before I get back, I’ll be the one ignoring you for another week. If you lie, I’ll add another one.”

Shiro felt himself froze, the cold drip of dread falling down his spine. “You wouldn’t.”

Keith only gave him an empty look that had Shiro staring back at him in defeat, unsuccessfully trying to even out his breathing. “You’re so fucking cruel.”

“I’m only gonna fuck you harder, don’t worry,” Keith let go of him, and the promise of Keith pushing him face down against his mattress was enough for Shiro to almost forget about his throbbing dick hanging heavily between his legs.

Shiro let out a huff of exasperated breath. “Can I suck _you_ off, at least?”

Keith smirked, stepping back. “By all means.”


	2. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4am isn’t exactly the best time to post chapters, but I couldn’t wait any longer. Enjoy!

Two days later, Shiro was sending the teams off to their assigned locations by dawn. Even if the skies were beginning to lighten as each minute passed, it was still dark enough for them to switch on the spotlights as people worked their way through the hangar until the floor was mostly covered by their hurried footsteps. Since yesterday, the supplies were already packed and tied to be shipped out, the cargo planes filled with boxes of the necessities and double-checked for any compromises.

Most of the teams were already waiting for their Captain’s orders as they lingered around their transport or were helping out the other teams with their own load. Pilots and soldiers alike were ordered to have their uniforms upgraded to something more heavily geared; they had to be cautious of any leftover enemies that were bound to pounce out from their hiding places if anything didn’t go the way they expected to be. They weren’t given any chance to bargain their own safety. Weapons and shields were packed alongside food and clothes, packages upon packages of medical kits and armoured doctors were brought with.

If they were to dive into the wreckage of an intergalactic war, they might as well be heavily padded with protection and be as healthy as a stocked bear waiting for hibernation.

Shiro was glad he managed to snag on his jacket before he left; the morning wasn’t kind to them today. Wisps of fogged air clouded in front of his mouth every time he conversed with his Commanders by the edge of the hangar. Iverson looked as if he was violently woken up by the weather, the scowl on his face looked harsher under the lights from where he huddled within his own jacket. Sam was doing better, pointing to his tablet as they weighed the percentage of their success with their what-ifs.

The ratio would be in their odds, Shiro thought, as he nodded to the updates given to him. Backup was ready if there were any trouble, a few fighter pilots staying back with the rest of the Garrison while Lance would be acting as their commanding officer. The Red Lion was big enough to house at most five planes, and it was the fastest vehicle among all to get to the said place if a fight decided to break out.

Shiro nodded again, mostly to himself. They were ready.

When he gave his orders around him, people were running over to their stations and climbing into their cargo planes. He could feel a small smile stretching up as he let his eyes fleet over them; they were going to be alright. Everyone had done their homework before they left, none of them would be in danger if they knew what they were doing.

Shiro found himself looking over at the far end of the hangar. Team I, if he remembered correctly, and he saw Griffin slipping inside the plane just as Keith came out. They talked for a while, clearly exchanging some words about the only other plane that would be following the Black Lion. Their team had been a different case; with all the heavy supplies kept inside the Lion, Griffin would man a plane full of people. The small plane wouldn’t be as fast, and Keith would have to fly near them to keep an eye out.

Griffin shook his head at whatever it was Keith was talking about, but there was a smile on his face, entertained with the talk before he reached out and patted Keith on the shoulder and slipped back into the helm.

As if feeling his eyes on him, Keith turned around and picked Shiro out through the crowd with a single look.

The wind seemed to pick up then, and Shiro slipped his cold hands into the shelter of his pockets as he held those eyes from afar. Keith was decked in his Paladin armour, the reds of what he wore was a striking look against the greens and the whites that were used as his canvas background, the sigma on his chest a blaring warning to all around him. With his ink black hair brushed gently by the breeze, the spotlight shining above him made him look far too beautiful for Shiro’s heart to take in.

Indeed, if the archangels decided to choose a form before their descent upon the firm grounds of Earth, then they would have fought to have his appearance.

Keith began walking to his way, and Shiro curled his fingers into his palms as he forced himself to sweep his gaze over their friends, donned in their own Paladin armour that the white shells reflected against the lights.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Sam murmured, clearly having his eyes on the Paladins as well, his tone proud. The Paladins converged at the middle of the clearing, playfully bumping into each other before letting out a collective laugh. “We are very lucky.”

“This is more than luck, they’ve worked hard themselves.” Iverson said from Shiro’s left as the four members of the Paladins of Voltron stood in front of them.

“Where’s Lance?” Hunk asked, eyes snapping between them.

“He’s inside,” Shiro said, levelling a smile at him when Hunk gave him a short hum as a response. “Said he couldn’t stand the cold and decided to wait inside with your lions.”

“Of course he would.” Pidge commented lamely.

“Well, Paladins, it looks like it’s goodbye for now,” Iverson began. “If anything were to happen, you know what to do.” He then gave a wry smile. “We wish you a safe journey and a pleasant flight.”

His friends, the Paladins, nodded at his words, a look of pleasant surprise lit up on their faces; they were clearly touched by the brief speech that came from the same Commander who used to scream his lungs out to get them moving around the track.

“We should get going, the sooner the better,” Shiro stepped back, allowing the Paladins to walk in front of him as both Iverson and Sam stepped in as well. Shiro brought the rear, finding himself walking beside Keith, the back of his fingers brushing against his. They made sure they were a few feet away from their comrades, enough that they wouldn’t be too far behind, when suddenly he felt Keith taking hold of his wrist.

Shiro glanced over his way with arched eyebrows, and Keith merely tilted his head towards a nearby door without so much an ounce of shame.

With his heart hammering underneath his sternum, Shiro slipped his fingers in between Keith’s and stood near enough to hide their hands in the flap of his jacket. When they walked, Shiro convinced himself that the heat in his cheeks were mostly because of the cold, not because he was trying very hard not to combust at the feel of Keith’s thumb brushing over his knuckles.

Shiro pulled the door open and found himself standing in the empty space of an emergency exit — a flight of stairs trailed up to the next floor while another went downwards, its grey walls and red pipes stretching above them.

There was a shuffle of feet, and when Shiro glanced behind him, Keith had stepped in as well and closed the door with a firm shut.

The echo it gave out sounded far too loud for their ears when the place they stood in were too quiet for their breaths, for the blood that rushed in their veins.

Immediately, Shiro was crowded against the wall, air punched out of his lungs the moment his back hit the cold surface with Keith standing in his space, looking at him with the same glee in the shine of his eyes.

Their connected hands were raised next to his shoulder, and Keith was craning his head to press a sweet kiss onto one corner of his mouth that had Shiro lowering his eyelids, turning to embrace the chilled point of his nose digging into his cheek as he chased those cold lips with his own.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye?” Keith murmured, his other hand raising up to cup the side of his face, holding Shiro in place by thumbing him firmly under his chin with his middle finger pressed at the corner of jaw, tilting his face up as he planted another long kiss at the other side of his mouth.

“Haven’t we done that enough?” Shiro replied quietly, his metal arm snaking around his waist to pull Keith closer to himself until they were pressed from chest to thighs. The armour was a nuisance between them, but Shiro knew they didn’t have time to do anything else when they had barely managed to steal a few minutes for themselves. “We’ve been doing that for years, and I’m starting to get sick of it.”

“Think of it this way,” Keith used his leverage over Shiro by pulling down his face, meeting the deep purples of his gaze. “Somewhere or another, our goodbyes brought us together again, whether or not we know or want them to. Only this time,” Keith flashed him a grin, all teeth and no mercy. “I _know_ I’ll be coming back.”

“I hope so,” Shiro replied, fingers spreading across the dip of his back. “Because I’d probably be disappointed to find out you weren’t going to come back when I’ve already fingered myself open on your bed.” He gave a wicked smile of his own, watching the way Keith’s eyes widened. “The new hand is _very_ nice,” he continued, wiggling said fingers against his back until Keith tensed. “But, it’s just not you.”

It took him only a second to notice the clench of his jaw before Keith was surging forward and captured his lips with a sloppy kiss that was mostly tongue and teeth, his fingers dragging across the side of neck before they rest above his nape while Shiro already had his arm tightening around his waist. He angled his head to kiss Keith harder, longer, slipping his tongue in and licking a stripe behind the row of his teeth before he felt fingers curling in what little hair he had behind his head. Shiro let out a small groan when his head was tugged back, exposing his neck to a puff of warm breath washing over his covered pulse.

“A drop and you won’t be getting what you want,” Keith warned him, untangling their connected fingers to bring his other hand down the front of his torso before they skimmed above his belt. Shiro breathed harshly at the light touch, so close and yet so far in touching his already half-hard dick that was pressing against the front of his pants. “Or, do I need to remind you?”

Their close press of their bodies prevented him from hiding his turn on, and Keith took that advantage by letting his knee wedge between his legs, making Shiro moan from the slide of his muscled thigh against his dick. The friction that came from the drag of his pants wasn’t helping, coaxing him to have a full blown boner in public while Keith used his teeth to nip the skin just above the greens of his collars.

“Don’t leave a mark,” Shiro breathed out, his other hand sliding up to hold on his waist, trying to maintain his balance. “I have a meeting after this, I don’t want people to know where the both of us disappeared to when I was supposed to bring you to your lion.”

“We don’t need escorts,” Keith scoffed, the small burst of air slashing across the wet part of his skin. When Keith leaned back, Shiro could see the point of his canines peeking out from his lips and knew he was going to wear high collared shirts for the next couple of days. “And we definitely don’t need any Captains playing high and mighty when he’s just horny for my dick.”

“You gotta give yourself some credit,” Shiro laughed. “I’m horny for the Black Paladin’s dick, and that’s the highest honour.”

Keith eyed him over for a moment, unable to say anything else than give him another kiss that made Shiro sighed deeply through his nose, holding him near. Keith let his hands drag across his body, touching him and feeling him through his uniform, and brought his palms down the length of his back before they slid lower, tantalisingly slower. Without warning, he grabbed a handful of his ass that made Shiro let out a yelp, clutching onto his arms in surprise. Keith chuckled against his lips, giving him a firm squeeze that the zap of his hold was felt to the tip of his cock.

Keith gave one last bite of his bottom lip before he stepped back, making Shiro felt as if he was left airborne in the skies from the sudden lack of touch, scrambling to scoop up the last his common sense. He stared at Keith, at how he was just as affected in the bright gleam of his eyes, the rise and fall of his chest, before Shiro brought his gaze to his flushed mouth, breathing heavily. “See you soon.”

Just like that, Keith turned around, hand sliding down his chest as if to get rid of the wrinkles his suit didn’t have, and left Shiro staring after him as the door shut closed.

Shiro, still stuck in the state of euphoria Keith left him in, ran his fingers through hair with an astonished chuckle.

There was another door being slammed closed just a level above him, and Shiro quickly straightened up his appearance and tugged on his collar a little higher to hide any sort of evidence. He glanced down, saw the boner still sticking out his front like a sore thumb, and sighed, wrapping his jacket over himself and leaned back again for a second more in order to will his dick to calm down.

Until he realised there weren’t any footsteps going up or down the stairs —nor were they making any sounds, really— and glanced up in curiosity from his place by the wall.

Only to hear a very delighted giggle that was silenced with what he knew was a very passionate kiss.

There was a flash of orange from the slits near the stair’s edge, and Shiro let out another sigh that was far too loud than he intended as he slumped back.

He was cursed, that was what he was.

The people above him were suddenly quiet, not even letting out a peep of sound that told Shiro they heard him making a ruckus by himself.

Shiro bit the inside of his bottom lip. He knew the feeling in wanting to spend some time with the person you love but having it cut short because of their responsibilities, or because of some other things that shouldn’t be in between what they wanted. He didn’t exactly have a choice to tell them off, not after his little escapade with Keith not more than ten minutes ago.

Now that the fire inside him had subsided and his pants had gone back to the way it should be, Shiro pushed himself off the wall and reached for the handle to pull the door open, allowing a blast of cool air hit his face.

He paused, and faced the stairs. “As you were, Cadets.”

“Fuck,” someone muttered under her breath. She cleared her throat, while another girl mumbled incoherently. Most likely spewing muffled profanities. “Of course, Captain Shirogane.”

Shiro smirked, and walked out.

 

* * *

 

The ghost of the kiss tingled for the rest of the day, and Shiro was making immense effort in diving into what workload he needed to go through, making sure his mind was occupied with statistics and meetings and politics instead of having to see soft black hair, mischievous purple eyes, and frequently bitten lips.

For once, he was glad he was thoroughly unavailable on most days. It was clockwork, a routine he embedded into his mind and body for him to survive the whole week, forcing himself to be busy.

From morning, he would get breakfast, have at least two meetings per day, one of them would be with other leaders of the world — and they would establish an International Safety Community for the people all around the planet. It was also having another meeting with the Atlas crew before leaving for his room, and by then he would be too tired to eat dinner before he quickly let a rain of shower chase away that day’s stank, before he was slumping face down into his bed with only his shorts on.

These kind of meetings would go on for three days, and then, he was working on the paperwork that came with it. Mountains of them, and he didn’t envy the times when people still used actual paper as a means to keep their records, where he was rather grateful all the files he had to look into were arranged properly in a single file.

Sometimes, he would visit the bridge for their daily updates on the teams. There were twenty of them in total, with five spread around America and fifteen others around the world.

The commanding officers would tell him on what he needed to know. They would report on the condition of the place, assess what they have picked out, and help in the best way they can. Sometimes, Shiro would tell them to bring out the conference call outside their tent, just to have a look at the place, and smothered the sadness burning in his chest at how badly war had destroyed the condition of the cities. But, he kept his smile on when children circled around his hologram in curiosity, giving him waves and shy smiles when he talked to them.

“They’re doing better,” Allura said on the fourth day, a smile visible as the three-year-old in her arms occupied himself with his toy rabbit. They both were covered in gloves and thick jackets, the speckled snow on their hats winking from the sun. “Those who got hurt are healing properly, and the fort on their mountain is devoid of any Galra forces.”

Some were in the middle of the night, some were at early morning like Allura was. All of them were online for this call, and Shiro was slightly guilty for waking up those who were getting their rest.

“Moscow’s slowly getting there.” Pidge was still in her armour, her glasses pushed to the top of her head from where she was slumped against her chair, arms folded across her chest. The corner of her channel showed it was three in the morning. “They got the most hit, and the President is eager to help their people to get better. We’re trying to speed up the healing process as fast as we can.”

Six from the twenty channels that were spread across the large screen nodded their agreement. Big cities usually have the worst condition, it was expected they would take a longer time to pick themselves up.

“If your supplies are dwindling, you have to inform me and we would send more to your way,” Shiro told them, eyes flitting over each face. “We might have enough to spare.”

“Is it possible if we help all the other posts?” Hunk asked. “And then we come back to our own. It shouldn’t take a long time.”

“I wouldn’t advise that. If anything were to happen at your post when you were absent, then there wouldn’t be anyone to defend it,” Shiro said, glancing at Lance sitting on his left. “I’ll send Lance and Kinkade to help you out. You don’t have to worry about that.”

It went on for another half an hour as they all gave their updates, right until Keith sat straighter in his seat. “Everything is under control here. If Lance needed help in helping those other posts, I’ll be able to come over and give a hand while Griffin would take over my stead. My men are able to take care of themselves, they don’t need me as much as they think.”

 _I need you_. Shiro tapped his lap with a finger. “You will do so until I have given my orders. Until then, you would attend to your posts.”

“I can assure you, Captain, that a lot of them are capable here without me.” The heat of Keith’s look seemed to pierced through the screen, despite the even level of his tone. “I could help others that need more hands, it’ll pull the load off them.”

“I don’t doubt your men’s faith, General Kogane,” Shiro replied wryly, and Lance shifted beside him. “But, there’s a protocol to uphold. If it’s unbearable for some, then I would send Lance and Kinkade. If it’s worse than we anticipated, I would be there. What’s important now is that everyone should stay at their assigned post.”

Shiro didn’t mean to sound as if he was scolding Keith in front of everyone else. But from the way Keith leaned back on his chair, clearly admitting defeat in the lax of his hands resting against his armrests, Shiro knew he did exactly just that.

And from the blaze of those eyes, Shiro also knew he was royally screwed the moment Keith would come back.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro added, whether in regards to what he said or what was implied between them. “But, I appreciate your concern.”

Internally, Shiro winced. Internally, he was beating himself up for humiliating Keith in front of so many of their peers and fellow Paladins that it was entirely unforgivable. He knew what kind of thoughts would be running in their heads as they watched this being unraveled in front of them, and he knew he wouldn’t be surprised if they connected this interaction with the history both he and Keith had.

There used to be whispers, but Keith was able to bury them for a little while as he exceeded what little expectations they put him in. That was until Shiro was claimed dead and Keith got kicked out of the Garrison with destruction left as his trail.

“Of course,” a flitting pitch of mockery ended his sentence. “Although, if our plan didn’t work as well as we would’ve hope, and _you_ require my assistance in saving your ass, my offer still stands.” Keith gave an equally unimpressed smile. “Just putting it out there, in case there were qualms in asking.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Lance muttered, but Shiro didn’t need to know what he face he was making, he didn’t need to find out. Lance was already grilling the side of his head with his look alone.

Kinkade, who had little conversation with Shiro when Griffin usually give his reports about the MFEs, slowly turned towards his way from where he stood nearer to the screen, expression unreadable.

Shiro was sure every other person present didn’t want to witness their little argument, not when the room felt like a sauna, a sudden hot air seeping through the air ventilations and into his uniform while he only stood straight in front of his controls, holding onto Keith’s eyes unwaveringly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”  Shiro paused, straightening his shoulders with defiance burning hotly underneath his chest. “Sir.”

Keith, who somehow expected this kind of unrefined behaviour from him, hardly looked surprised as one single eyebrow climbed up his forehead.

“Well, it looks as if everything’s settled for today. If there’s anything that needed our attention, all of you are to inform us immediately.” Iverson slashed his gaze towards Shiro then, exasperation hanging onto the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, as if he was having second thoughts of appointing a young chum as the head of the ship when he was having a spat on the general line with his little duckling. “Is there anything else you’d like to add, Captain?”

“No, there isn’t.” Shiro shot him an apologetic smile, and Iverson only stared back. Shiro faced the screen again. “We’ll be ending today’s call at this note. Good luck.”

One by one everyone signed off, and Shiro didn’t give Lance a chance to interrogate him when he was already crossing the floor in quick strides, on his way to his room and lick his wounds in shame.

“So, Cap,” Lance called out behind him, running a bit to catch up. “Trouble in paradise?”

Shiro locked his jaw in place. “No.”

“Uh-huh, like the tension I was sensing between you two just now wasn’t sexually repressed in any way, but I’ll take your word for it.” By that time, Lance had already matched his pace with his hands shoved inside his pants pockets. “You gotta admit that everyone looked like they’d rather be anywhere else but in the same room with you two.”

“That includes you too, huh?” Shiro asked airily, already making a turn to the right before a hand grabbed onto his elbow, stopping him in place that made him aim an agitated look at Lance.

“A drink would help,” Lance offered with a grin, but there was something pressed in his eyes, and the grip he had on Shiro was a little too tight for his taste. “Get everything off your shoulders for a while. I know you’ve been nose deep in those reports, and frankly, it sickens me to see a man who isn’t enjoying his last days in his twenties.”

“Oh, I see, that was a jab at my age.” Shiro pointedly stared at the fingers on his arm, and Lance let his hand drop. “For the record, I still have work to do. So, if you excuse me,”

“C’mon, Shiro,” Lance stepped into his way, blocking him. “When was the last time we actually had fun?”

Shiro stared him down. “Drinking our senses out isn’t fun.”

“We’re not gonna drink until we pass out, just to numb whatever problems you have with Mullet,” Lance bribed, jerking his head towards the opposite direction Shiro wanted to go. “So that the rest of us won’t feel like signing off early every time both of you decided to make the meeting as your personal line.”

His dignity was feeling rather mucky at the moment. “It was only today.”  

“Hit the iron while it’s hot.” Lance shrugged, leaning on his heels.

Shiro sighed, swiping the bridge of his nose with his thumb. “Fine. I have vodka in my room, I’m going to take it and we’ll go to the officer’s lounge.”

“You have— okay, alright,” Lance waved off whatever words he was about to say, accepting it as it was. “I’ll be waiting for you there. If you don’t come back in fifteen minutes, I’m gonna haul you out.”

“Sure,” Shiro said, as he turned around and left.

He did end up in the officer’s lounge after that. He had considered bailing the whole thing until he took out the bottle from his cabinet and stared at the bow around the neck. It had been a gift from a long time ago, only he couldn’t remember what it was for and didn’t want to dig into that. He tucked the vodka under his armpit and dug around for a couple of shot glass he knew his past self would have the brains to keep somewhere.

Once he walked out of his room, resignation already sunk into his system before the alcohol did.

Maybe, Lance was right. Maybe, he needed this more than he realised.

That night, after his fourth glass, Shiro was slumped against the sofa with Lance at his side, the only lights they left on was the ones above the island. The front of his uniform was left open halfway through their drinks, and his nerves had a slight buzz that made everything seem a little more lighter than before while the dim room provided him enough space to think.

Mainly on when Keith was going to come back so that Shiro could stop taking cold showers in the middle of the night and restrain himself from jerking off.

The doors were opened before footsteps came walking in. When Shiro lazily rolled his head towards the newcomer, Kinkade was already heating up the water in the kettle, pulling out a mug and a familiar yellow box from the cabinet above his head.

 _Oh,_ Shiro thought listlessly. _He’s going to drink the gross tea._

Lance seemed to notice Kinkade from where he was already craning his neck to have a better look. “Hey, man. What’s the time?”

Kinkade probably saw them earlier and wasn’t startled when he continued to take out a sachet from the box, dumping it in the mug. “Eleven.”

“At night?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.” Lance fell back lifelessly, feet propped on the coffee table. “I thought it’d be later.”

Kinkade didn’t answer then, pouring hot water into his mug before pulling out another sachet from the drawer. Only, it was white and longer in size instead of the square-shaped ones he used as his tea, and Shiro faintly realised it was sugar as Kinkade poured those crystals into his beverage.

Instead of going back out like Shiro assumed he would, Kinkade walked over to where they sat and occupied the single seater sofa at one end of the table, taking out his phone to scroll through whatever it was he had been looking at while sipping his tea.

“Hey, Shiro.” Lance nudged his side, pulling his attention back to him. “Think the girl I love could love me back?”

Surprisingly, it was the first time any of them had been direct since they started drinking, and Shiro was quietly glad Lance broke first. “Allura already likes you, Lance.”

“I didn’t even say her name,” Lance protested, staring at his tangled fingers from where they rested on his stomach. “How would you know it’s Allura I’m talking about?”

“You were already obvious,” Shiro pointed out, rolling the shot glass he had in his hand. “And Allura tried to be discreet about it, but she loves you back.”

“Like, love.” Lance sighed. “Which one is it?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Probably not. It’s like you and Keith, I guess.”

Shiro felt his nose itch for a second before he was using his thumb to rub it away.

Lance noticed his lack of response and eyeballed him rather accusingly. “You’re trying to deny it, are you?”

“I didn’t even say anything, Lance.”

“Oh, so, you’re _not_ denying it. Cool, cool.” Lance pushed himself up with a grunt and reached for the vodka on the coffee table, pouring another glass for himself. “This could mean you’ll confess properly, and not dance around him like a ballerina on stage and make the rest of us suffer, right?”

Shiro inhaled slowly. “I’m not—“

“Oh, you are, _did_.” Lance leaned back again, taking a drink. “Hey, Ryan.” When Kinkade looked up, he gave them a dull look. “Did you feel like you wanted to crawl out of the bridge when Shiro and Keith were having their lover’s spat?”

Glaring at Lance, Shiro thought of kicking his feet off the table before Kinkade aimed his gaze towards Shiro, causing him to freeze in his spot under the golden irises of his calculated look.

Kinkade swept his eyes over him, before snapping them back up to meet Lance waiting ones as well. He gave a noncommittal shrug. “Yeah.”

“See?” Lance gestured towards him with a wave of his hand. “Even he gets it.”

“The same way you kept stuttering whenever the Princess is near, McClain,” Kinkade continued, effectively shutting him up. Both Lance and Shiro stared at him as he went back to his phone. “The Captain’s not that special.” Kinkade looked up again. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Shiro replied, the drinks he consumed made his vision swirl in front of his eyes before he blinked it away.

“Wow, Ryan,” Lance said sourly, sinking into the sofa. “Never knew James prepped all his teammates to be like him.”

“You’re just predictable.” Kinkade answered back, not lifting his eyes away from his phone screen.

“Honestly.” Lance huffed out, and by then Shiro felt his shoulders shake from silent laughter as he shook his head in disbelief. The situation felt funny than it should, since he wasn’t getting the other end of the stick, but he was enjoying it nonetheless, especially when the vodka they had was alight and ringing in his blood.

Shiro stared at the bottle for a moment before pouring some into his glass. Then, he was offering it to Kinkade, who slowly lifted his head to blink at it before looking at him in question.

“We have more,” Shiro said, nodded towards the last half of the bottle. When Kinkade didn’t make any move to take it, Shiro set it on the coffee table in front of him. “You can have it if you want.”

Kinkade remained still for a moment, before he was reaching out and taking the glass with his fingers, tilting his head back to inhale the whole thing while Lance clapped his hands slowly. “Bravo.”

“It’s after curfew,” Kinkade commented as he set down the glass. “We shouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah, well, when else are we gonna get this kind of thing, right?” Lance chuckled, letting his head drop on the back of the sofa, a small smile on his face. “Besides, we’ll use Shiro’s status card if anyone asks.”

Shiro let out a short hum, watching Kinkade refill his glass again.

“Fine by me.” Kinkade replied, the corner of his mouth itching up as he toasted to both Captain and Paladin on the couch, and finished off his drink off with a single gulp.

 

* * *

 

Time passed in a whirlwind, and Shiro found himself facing the day the ceremony would take place days later.

The teams arrived in the morning, and Shiro didn’t have the time to greet any of them when he had a meeting with the world leaders about their process, held back in the same room for hours to end. He only managed a quick bite for lunch, just a chicken sandwich he grabbed from the cafeteria as he worked on his tab, before he was already on his way to another meeting with Iverson and Sam at the control room as Sam explained their current condition.

The moment he was done, it was already late into the evening, just an hour before the ceremony would start that he was already marching towards his room.

Thankfully, his speech was already prepared the night before. He only needed a quick shower and to dress into his suit before he could go over the lines for a moment more.

His only mistake was to not lock his bathroom door the moment he let it shut close behind him.

Shiro was letting the spray of warm water rain against his skull and skin from where he tilted his face towards the shower head, relishing the way it loosened his tight muscles on his shoulders as he used his hands to wash the day’s work away. He had been so at peace that he didn’t notice the soft _click_ , before the door swung open and Keith stepped in the bathroom.

Shiro swore under his breath, heart thudding as he stared at Keith with wide eyes, hands clutching his chest. Shiro exhaled harshly through his mouth at that familiar face, pushing back his hair as he laughed breathlessly, willing his heart to calm down. “Keith, hi. I didn’t realise—“

He was stopped short, however, when he noticed Keith’s bare condition. He was stripped off his clothes, wearing nothing as he walked nearer towards where Shiro stood in slow steps, the hunger in his eyes apparent as Keith let them swept down Shiro’s form unabashedly.

The scars of this body weren’t there like they used to be. It was glorious in a way that it was new, as if this clone was just popped out of the box for Shiro to use while the original was discarded by the forces of extraterrestrial beings. Shiro knew how soft and smooth his skin was, had once stared at his legs a little longer than he should the first time he was changing, at how the gnarling slashes of blades and claws weren’t there when he tried finding them, except for the dark handprint on his left thigh and the only scar within it.

Keith knew how his body looked like the after Shiro’s first escape, how fascinated he was at the one on his shoulder when he was helping Shiro change into casual clothes back when they were at the shack, just a few hours after Keith bailed him out of quarantine with three more of their friends. It had been been a bite mark, and it almost swallowed his whole shoulder as Keith traced the healed punctures with a tentative brush of his fingers.

Now, he seemed appreciative of this new body as well, if the way his gaze lingered on Shiro’s chest before they dragged down the length of his front told Shiro anything about it.

But, he was angry. Oh, so angry.

“You didn’t realise what, Shiro?” Keith asked, voice smooth and dangerously calm as he stopped just at the small ledge of the shower, his arms bulging from where he crossed them against his chest.

Shiro, suddenly feeling very exposed under his scrutiny, licked his lips. Keith noticed the movement, eyes flashing. “I—“

“That you made a fool out of me a few days ago?” Keith stepped inside, and Shiro felt his heart rate jump at the splash of water and how Keith was reaching out to grip onto his hips, pushing Shiro against the cold tile of the shower walls with a firm shove. Shiro shivered against the way they stung against his warmer skin, making goosebumps erupt down his arms and nape. “That you made it look like I wasn’t paying attention to everything you said when I just wanted to help?”

By then, Keith had his mouth near his neck, breath puffing out in hot clouds near his pulse that Shiro was starting to feel his buried need unearthed again under his touch. He let out a shuddering breath when Keith let his lips brush the slightest bit against his skin, almost a ghost of a touch that had his blood singing with praise all the way to his cock. “Keith, please—“

“No, no, you have to tell me.” Keith used thumbs to press into his sides, the rest of his fingers digging into his ass that he was jerked into Keith more, and Shiro groaned when his hard dick rubbed against Keith’s. “What didn’t you realise?”

Shiro didn’t know how to answer that when he was already too far gone in Keith’s touch despite not doing anything yet; he had waited too long for this, and now that Keith was back in his arms, having a death grip on his ass as if he was about to rip him apart, was all he needed.

Maybe, they should talk and be rational in their clothes. Maybe, it was for the best of their sanity.

But, Keith had taken one look at Shiro, had taken one look at was being given on a silver platter and thought for once, rationale wasn’t top priority.

“Keith, I—“ he managed to let out, but Keith was leaning forward to catch his lips into a bruising kiss that had Shiro push back just as eagerly, his own hands sailing down his shoulders before they clutched onto Keith’s forearms, almost hanging on for dear life as Keith let his tongue plunge into his mouth.

Shiro groaned, angling his head to get the most out of it while his hips were rolling against Keith’s, wanting to feel more of him, wanting what he knew he deserved after too many days of being apart for his liking.

But, Keith — lovely, lovely Keith had different ideas with his tongue and hands when he pushed Shiro back against the wall again, making him stay still and out of reach from what Shiro needed as Keith licked a long stripe against the roof of his mouth.

“You promised,” Shiro gasped: wanton, hard, wanting Keith, wanting him so that he could satisfy the fire crackling underneath his skin. “You promised a week, Keith, _please_.”

“Have you been good for the whole week?” Keith asked sweetly, and Shiro realised then, with the shower still running above their heads, that Keith was playing with him. Playing with him in the small kiss against the corner of his mouth, attaching itself there for a moment while Keith continued, “Did you really think you deserve it?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Shiro ran his hands to his back, feeling the corded muscles underneath his palm shifting with every movement as Keith brought his kisses to his ear. “I’ve been good, I didn’t touch myself—“

“You didn’t? Wow,” Keith chuckled, nipping his ear. “That’s admirable.”

By then, Shiro brought his hands nearer to Keith’s ass, tugging the man nearer to himself until they were chest to chest, thigh to thigh; it was feeling the slide of their skin against one another as Shiro rutted once against Keith and moaned, until Keith gasped into his jaw and wrenched himself back, staring at him with wide eyes.

“I didn’t even say you could have me.” Keith laughed breathlessly, and it sounded a little cruel to Shiro’s ears when Keith was leaning away from him, pushing himself into the hands that held his ass more while Shiro began mouthing his neck; needy, needy, needy, like the whore he was as he licked a drop of water away from the sweet taste of skin. Keith hummed deeply in his throat, pushing white strands of wet hair away from his face before they tangled with his forelock.

Shiro choked on air when Keith yanked back his head until he bumped against the tiles, and a keen escaped through his lips when the only thing Shiro was able to do was clutch onto his waist. Keith was denying him what he had been deprived of for the whole week, when Shiro needed him to spare the torture of having him so near and yet so far.

“Shiro,” Keith murmured, and it was grounding, soft. Shiro was panting with every heave of his chest as he pleaded at Keith with his eyes. “If I let you go, would you be good for me?”

“Yes—“

“ _Would_ you be good for me?”

Shiro choked on a sob, ass grinding against the wall desperately, dick hanging heavily between them to the point it hurt. “ _Sir_ , yes, please—“

A hitch of breath was audible through the buzz of his ears, but Shiro didn’t have the chance to preen at the reaction he got when he found himself shouting to the ceiling, hole clenching around the finger Keith had unexpectedly probbed in, pulling it out with a long slide before going in again.

Shiro rolled his hips along with the motion; head back, chest out, tantalising Keith until he was unable to help himself from leaning forward and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking the perked nub with teeth and tongue until it caused Shiro to cry out and jerk his pelvis forward.

Keith let another finger wedge in beside the other, pumping his fingers in and out until Shiro rode onto them earnestly, quick to suck them in that Keith was able to add another finger with ease.

By then, Keith had already lift his head to watch his expression. By then, Shiro felt three fingers moved into him with an obscene sound coming from the slide of flesh against flesh, panting fervently into the bathroom as he hugged the wall behind him.

By then, Keith twisted his wrist, and Shiro felt his mouth went slack when he hit his prostate, giving a soundless cry to the heavens.

“Fuck,” Keith whispered, and did it again that a loud whine escaped from his mouth, and Shiro felt the way Keith dropped his hand from his forehead and gripped onto the back of his knee, pushing him up until he was left more exposed than he was before. At this angle, Keith was able to watch where his fingers went, where Shiro was swallowing them all to his knuckles so greedily. “Fuck, Shiro, you’re so beautiful.”

“Keith, please—“

Shiro let out a moan when Keith abruptly stopped, buried deep inside him, causing Shiro to twitch in his place as Keith levelled his face with Shiro, looking at him directly in the eye. “Why stop the formalities now? You’re the one who kept on insisting to call me by that name.”

Shiro tried leaning in for a kiss, but Keith only turned his face to the side and let those bitten lips land on his cheek instead. Shiro began breathing heavily against where he was slumped against Keith, dragging kisses across wherever his mouth was instead.

He groaned when Keith pushed his knee into his stomach more, effectively a warning and pinning him at the same time while Shiro tried to balance on one foot. “Say it again.”

“ _Sir_ ,” Shiro gasped out, wriggling underneath his hold. “Sir, sir, please. I need you, I need you inside me.”

Keith pulled out his fingers until Shiro whined after them, the gaping space was a bit of a shock to his body as he clenched around nothing. Until Keith lined himself up to his entrance, until he sheathed himself in and Shiro was letting out a hiss of satisfaction at the feeling of Keith’s cock inside him.

Keith began with slow thrusts, taking his time in dragging his dick through his walls while Shiro tried to urge him on. Rolling and twisting his hips, letting out soft moans as Keith move in and out of him with his pace. It wasn’t until Shiro was getting too impatient, everything was taking too long, and he clenched around him that caused Keith to let out a choke that he almost let go of Shiro’s raised leg.

Shiro let out a yelp when Keith lifted him completely off the floor by hooking his arms underneath his legs, snapping his hands out to scramble across his back from where he was suspended in mid-air, feeling pelts of water beating against his shoulder as Keith looked up at him with a gleam in his look.

“What are they gonna think,” Keith growled, slamming into him with single force that had Shiro keening, toes curling at the sensation of being stretched opened by him, by this man carrying him almost effortlessly in his arms before Keith was dragging out his dick again, setting his previous pace. “When they see their Captain take my dick like this?”

Shiro let his nails dig crescent moons into his back, unable to do anything as he held on, feeling Keith’s thrusts getting faster by the second. “They’ll know how much of a brat you are,” Keith huffed into his ear, and Shiro was panting and burying his face into his neck. “See you wide open like this while I’ll just—“

With a hard thrust, Keith slammed home, causing Shiro to wail as he arched into him while his hands scrambled for purchase, clawing down the length of Keith’s back while he continued to pound into Shiro relentlessly now that he had started.

“Please, please,” Shiro pleaded, screwing his eyes shut as he blindly searched for a kiss, mouth sloppily pressing into every spot he can latch onto as Keith met his need, kissing him deeply with his tongue sliding against his.

They kissed and kissed until Shiro had to raise his head for breath, panting and heaving and needing until Keith snapped his hips, accompanied with a little roll that had Shiro’s mind thinking nothing but him, and them, and everything they had at that moment of time and how they were still filthy from their pre-come despite the running water.

Keith pressed his mouth against Shiro’s warm ear. “Come for me,” he gust out. “Come for me, sweetheart, you’re almost there—“

At the same time, Keith reached over and gripped onto his aching dick, only managed a single stroke of his thumb against the head before Shiro was sobbing and coming into his hand at the same time, tears streaming down his face at the overload sensation that made his skin feel like they were on fire as Keith continued to thrust into him.

Shiro couldn’t do anything else but let himself slump against Keith’s hold, oversensitivity making him numbly kiss the sharp corner of his jaw while Keith was getting uncoordinated in his movements.

Keith’s hips stuttered against him, sinking his teeth into the meat of Shiro’s shoulder as he came with a languid roll of his hips, and Shiro groaned out in bliss as he was used to coax Keith’s orgasm out thoroughly, milking him for all his worth.

The moment Keith let out a gasp of relief, he wasn’t able to hold Shiro up any longer and let them both fall to the ground with a slide against the tiled walls.

Shiro couldn’t be bothered from the way their legs were tangled together while the shower continuously fell down on them, letting his head rest against the cool surface as he caught his breath with Keith nuzzling into the middle of his chest. Shiro felt as if he could pass out then if it weren’t for how Keith was planting butterfly kisses onto his skin, letting his lips trail up until they caught his own.

With a long inhale, Shiro let Keith lead the kiss with a slide of his lips, tasting him properly, claiming him for his own that caused a shiver to zap down his spine, and Shiro accepted that all with a tilt of his head.

When they broke apart, Keith let his forehead rest against his. He took his hand, spreading his own across Shiro’s. “I’m back.”

Shiro let out a chuckle, nudging his nose to Keith’s. “That was one hell of a welcome home gift, though, but shouldn’t it be the other way round?”

“Nope, this is definitely how it should be,” Keith replied, intertwining their fingers together before pulling up their connected hands to his lips, planting a soft kiss onto his knuckles. “Because you needed it.”

“Your teasing wasn’t helping.” The glint sprang up again, and Shiro rolled his eyes. “Yes, I was affected. Yes, I was jealous.”

“I figured,” Keith hummed. Since Shiro was mostly sprawled on top of him, Keith took this advantage by pulling him off the wall and made him crawl on his lap. Shiro didn’t mind, and settled down with a sigh as he buried his face into his neck, wrapping his arms around Keith. “You needed an outlet for all the work you’ve been doing.”

“In that context, I’m guessing that wasn’t just for me.” Keith shrugged minutely as a response, and Shiro let out a puff of breath. “Thought so.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to give a talk at the ceremony now.”

Reality crashed onto him like a bucket of cold water, and Shiro jerked back to give him a wide look. “What time is it?”

Keith arched up his eyebrows. “I don’t know.”

Shiro let out a harsh exhale. “Fuck.”

“We just did that.”

Shiro tried to stand up by himself, but his legs were jelly at this point until Keith had to catch him from falling again, slowly lifting both of them up as they leaned against the wall. “I’m supposed to give them a morale boost,” Shiro grunted. “I had less than an hour to get ready until we were so sidetracked. Now, we’re going to be late.”

“They can wait,” Keith said. “Now, we’re showering.”

“We’ve been in the shower for too long, my fingers are pruning.”

“Quiet.” Keith reached over and squirted some soap onto his palm, lathering it all over the expanse of Shiro’s chest and down the length of his front, and Shiro felt his eyes threatened to close from the lulling air as he stared at Keith.

“You’re awful influence,” Shiro said, and Keith only snorted softly as he met his look.

“Who’s the one having an attitude?” Keith challenged, giving his ass a quick squeeze.

Shiro rolled his eyes, before he let his head drop onto Keith’s shoulder again. “Iverson is going to kill me.”

Iverson was close to doing just that the moment they walked in the hall, but Keith laughed quietly from where he stood beside Shiro, giving his hand an encouraging squeeze.

**Author's Note:**

> Since this eventually lengthened without my noticing, I decided to break it into two parts. For my sake, mostly.
> 
> Title from Britney Spears because Shiro’s a Britney kinda bitch next to Ariana Grande.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this!


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